


Benevax's Care Home for Troubled Cybertronians

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Breeding, Dark, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sapient beings treated as livestock, Slavery, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: The Quintessons have a quite large inventory of 'reclaimed Cybertronians' in stock, but unfortunately, there are many who- while still perfectly adoptable!- seem to be in need of..... rehabilitation, and will be used for repopulation efforts until their demeanors even out.Contact now for your Cybertronian, leadership rehabilitation still pending.





	Benevax's Care Home for Troubled Cybertronians

**Author's Note:**

> So the discord server asks, so it shall receive. :P 
> 
> Please, _please_ heed the warnings on this fic before reading! 
> 
> This is a short piece I wrote a while back on the tail end of a 'What if Quintesson tentacles elicited a limp noodle relaxation reaction in Cybertronians' thing that we all have Agatha to thank for. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 At the Care Home for Troubled Cybertronians, the first mech to break was Vortex.

It would've been funny- if anything about the situation they were in could've been described as such-  since it was Vortex's arrival at the facility that seemed to cause most of the problems for the captives there.

 The rotary hadn't come in as could be expected of him- kicking and cursing and threatening the sparks and minds of their captors, but in a genteel, quiet manner, led by one shrimpy looking squid and only bound at the wrists with electro-cuffs. It was obvious he had just recently been caught too, with how he was without the inhibitory collar about his neck.

The Quints spoke openly as the others sat in their cells about Vortex's placid demeanor, how once the matter of his reputation was cleared up, perhaps he could be used in socializing others. He was so _helpful_ too, about the 'knowledge' of the detained Autobots he knew about.

The squids stuck him in with Huffer, and it was a full joor before the minibot began to scream. The other Autobots could do naught but rattle their relative cages until a guard came to see what the issue was.  
  
Vortex took the tentacles off the Quintesson that came in and beat them within an inch of their life. He only stopped when bigger squids came in and wrapped him so tight that his armor nearly squealed.  
  
Only then did his frame go limp as if he was drugged, though his bright visor and twitching rotor blades belied his conscious state. His vocalizer fritzed in unspoken insults and triumphs, both Autobot and Decepticon were hauled out of the cell.  
  
After that day, the squids were careful to separate them by faction, and in many cases, interfactionally. Vortex was brought back, focused on aggressively for "rehabilitation". When he finally broke, only the threat of a squeeze n'cradle paired with a full-frame reboot a la inhibitor collar could reduce the former interrogator to a compliant mech, all twitches and submission. He did pretty much anything, any task their captors gave him.  
  
Huffer had not returned.  
  
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were fortunate enough that the Quintessons knew a pair of twins when they saw them, and that meant they were bunked together.

  
Considered no better than mechanimals by the tentacled menaces, they openly discussed their Cybertronian captives oftentimes in front of them. The twins played into this whenever the scientists came in to run tests and retrieve video of the pair, and they acted as if just separating them for a time could erode mentality and "manners".

Mentality was one thing, but to hear about biology, and plans for such in front to be discussed in front of the captives introduced a whole new dimension of horrified resistance to the equation.

The others didn't believe them at first, they assumed that the twins had finally cracked their processors under the pressure of the mental rigamarole the Quintessons put them under to test the lengths of their twin bond and the validity of the frontliners' carefully orchestrated responses. 

Sunstreaker couldn't let the subject lie when others brought up what may be done with them.

"This isn't about hostages or even Cybertron anymore." He hissed, during one 'recreation' time. "We're slagging _pets_ , mech, and they intend to increase our number the _old fashioned_ way." Optics turned at him at for his outburst blinked blankly.

"They're going try to make us kindle, you boltheads!" But even Sideswipe's back up to Sunstreaker's frantic words didn't convince the others. Instead, the twin speedsters found themselves becoming more isolated from the others, with whispered accusations of madness weighing on their shoulders. Words must have spread to the Decepticons, as passing sessions would have  _them_ boggling at the pair too, from their separated side of the room. War was war, whether between race or faction, and there were some things just not done.

Everything changed when Blades came in. 

The Protectobot was led by the recreation areas by a Quintesson with an unfamiliar frame, he could be seen approaching from down the hall and by the time he came past the Autobot's enclosure, each of his comrades was pressed up against the glass to get a look at him.

 The last time any of the Autobots had seen him- or anyone for that matter- in such a condition must have been _vorns_. His plating was healthy and he shone from the top of his helm to the tips of his pedes. He even made the inhibitory collar installed on his neck- which was covered in a multitude  of red and white bows that matched his plating- look good.

 And he was placid, calm like the most secluded earthen lake.

  _Uncomfortably_ placid.

 By nature, Blades was not _meant_ to be placid. Blades was kinetic, proactive- aggressive energy unleashed.

  Blades looked for fights where ever he could find them and escalated situations.

 Blades was often crude and rude and _active,_ not.... not a soft smiler, who, upon seeing his comrades for the first time in fragging _Primus knows how long_ would light up just that little bit, and give a jaunty little wave with one hand before his Quintesson ushered him (leashless! cuffless!) by the arm into a room with one-way windows well within sight of the rest of the gathered Cybertronians. By that time, the Decepticons were lined up to watch too, curious at the sight of Defensor's most aggressive component.

  The window tinting that blocked their view faded away.

 A couple of mecha on the Autobot side stepped away immediately, looking like they may purge their tanks. More on the Decepticon side rushed the reinforced glass in an enraged snap, only to bounce harmlessly off and be shocked by their inhibitory collars. The remainder just looked on solemnly, unwilling to let the opportunity to see what they had in store for them pass by.

The room was _filled_ with Quintessons scientists. They lined the walls with datapad analogues held in their tentacles, surrounding a raised central podium where Vortex lay prone over a raised wedge with his aft in the air. His modesty paneling was gone completely, as was his armor about his hips and thighs. The armor wasn't just detached but removed, cauterization points where nervous hookups would meet living metal were the shiny protoform grey of tender, post-op, healing material.

 The rim of his valve was swollen and glistening in the light directed onto it, nearly aglow with the energon concentrated there.A horrified silence, stillness swept through the captive mecha.

 Nausea and vindication vollied back and forth between the twins. Neither had wanted to be right, and Sideswipe joined those who turned their heads away, unwilling to look on as a suddenly balking Blades was led up by his Quintesson. Sunstreaker looked on, one of the grim witnesses of the squids' depraved show, almost as if it was an _instructional_ vid for the captives.

"Why doesn't he fight back??" Chromia hissed the rhetorical question between clenched, cracked denta which the Quintesson... caretakers... hadn't dared try to get to close to fix as of yet. She was one of the few better able to resist. The age and experience of a warrior such as she was an excellent deterrent to the squids.  
They all knew why though, they could clearly see the guard at the head of the platform with it's tentacles wrapped about Vortex's neck and upper body. Under the thrall of ancient codings, none of them could hope to fight off the paralysis and bodily euphoria of a tight Quintesson hold.

 It was near hypnotic to watch those writhing, pulsing tentacles, and difficult to look away when one's optics caught sight of them in a hold.

 Blades could be seen hesitating even more at the display presented to him when left next to the catatonic 'con, only to proceed with drone - like cadence when the Quintesson accompanying him gave him a quick squeeze and petting down.

Penetration was anticlimactic as Vortex's limp chassis didn't as much as twitch when Blades fumbled his way into his port. It was a quick, disgusting affair- once they had gotten Blade to pressurize, made all the worse by the number of Quintesson scientists whose attention shifted from the pair on the dais to those across the hall, forced to spectate.

A quiet descended on the mecha assembled that day, one that would never really lift.


End file.
